Battle Worn
by Jotunheim Storm
Summary: "Sleepless I'm battle worn." Blood stained the hands of the innocent, nightmares haunted the brave and ghost followed the scared. No one was safe from the Hunger Games. (SYOT CLOSED)
1. Prelude

Prelude

 _Sleepless I'm battle worn, you're all I want to bring me the dawn ~ James Bay, Need the Sun to Break_

* * *

It had been the coldest winter to date. Panem fell into an abyss of blizzards and frozen lakes. Frozen lakes which had ensnared the life of many unfortunate children playing by them…

 _Much like the games,_ I thought bitterly to myself as I rose from the comfort of my bed, peeling the large cotton duvet from my flesh, while it was freezing outside, my room had a large heater in it make me overly hot in the night, my duvet sticking to my sweaty body.

I clap my hands together and the large satin curtains fall back giving me a perfect view of District Four in the morning, see I was the District's Escort and in the time of the games I was given a luxury suite to live in until boarding the train, which was much more pleasant than that of this room I am confined to.

Crisp, white, shining flakes covered the landscape making it a magical land full of wonder and undiscovered mysteries. Large flakes fell from heaven as if the angels were having a pillow fight and the goose feathers down fell to our humble homes. Winter truly was the most enchanting season.

A twinkling sound of jingle bells informs me that I have a message from the President, President Willow. President Willow's full name was Bonus Willow, but none of us escorts were close enough to the young female President to call her so. _What kind of a name is Bonus,_ I mused.

I take the thin golden bracelet from the side table I keep beside my plush and plump bed. I place it around my left wrist, pressing it once before a frazzled picture fuzzes before me soon after becoming easier to see. The screen before me is of a translucent colour and I can clearly see the young President. She has ivory coloured skin and her cheeks are coloured by a soft shade of pink, the same hue as her thin lips, her hair is of a short style and of a black shade, it is worn in a bob and embellished by a large amount of roses sitting on top of her head. She was wearing a dress, the same colour as the blood red roses upon her head, this dress was strapless and showed way too much of her bust.

"Winter Dowry, good morning," she always greeted me the same way, her voice brittle and uneasy on the ears, much like her dress.

I smiled in response, listening her ramble on about the importance of the games and how each year needlessly twenty three children needed to be slaughtered in hopes of keeping the peace. The peace that was evidently destroyed by murdering innocent children. I was no fan of the games, due to the fact none of my tributes were yet to win and the fact I would become so attached the young girls and boys that would die right before my eyes. Last year a twin brother and sister, Oak and Sunflower both died in the blood bath and it broke my heart in two and the broken halves were like splinters, piercing through my broken flesh.

"You understand the importance of these games, Winter?" she asked, worrying that I didn't fully support the child murdering games, which I didn't, but she didn't need to know that.

I nodded, grinning making sure my performance was as believable as possible. I couldn't have her believing that I was against her in any way possible. I didn't want my head on the block, alongside my family members, I couldn't live with myself if my family were to be hurt. I would never sleep again if their blood was on my hands.

I signed off of the communicator and took it off my wrist, making my way to the bath room to cleanse before dressing for my big day. The walls were tiled with blue tiles that matched the dress I would be wearing later on today, I had picked the dress as it matched perfectly with the blue and white hues of the snow outside, covering the land and dusting the trees with what looked like powder.

* * *

I walked up to the sound wave shower, a tall podium with three valves on it, with three buttons in green, pink and blue. I pick green, it being my favourite flavour, pine wood. When stepping near it, four walls shoot up from the ground to protect my modesty. A vibrating sensation tickled my flesh and created a sort of numbness across each inch of my skin. I see circles of green and black surrounding me, rubbing against my hair and my skin. Every fibre of my body was being attacked by the numbness, but surprisingly it was rather calming and soothing. The circles made a small buzzing sound and smelt faintly of pine wood. I turned around so my back could absorb the wonderful sound waves that had been enhanced to cleanse me. The tingling consumed me in a lovely sensation of lack of feeling, warmth and pine wood. Lots and lots of pine wood.

I get out of the shower and make my way back to my bedroom. The room has a carpeted floor, the bristles soft underneath my bare feet. The carpet was a pink hue, and made of a fabric sourced in one of the worse of districts, but hell did they know how to make carpets. The walls were painted a soft cream hue and decorated with many paintings I have collected on my travels. My favourite one was of a place called England, I had read of it in fairy tales and I was excited to find art on a place I thought was full of princesses and romance.

It was a painting, most likely painted with water based paint, judging from the strokes of the brush used. The painting is a picture of a sea of violets and bluebells, in amongst the abyss of green grass, all shades of different greens, ranging from a light lime shade to a deep forest green. The flowers reach up to the sun, which stretches from the vibrant blue sky above to the floor of the canopy below. Large trees are dominating the skyline, creating a canopy of wide shading leaves, absorbing most of the rays of sun that came from the big sphere of light and gas in the sky. A fluffy abundance of white clouds, roam through the sky and settle in the vibrant blue painted sky. It was beautifully painted and extremely realistic.

I walked over to my wardrobe and pulled back the dark brown sliding door and I am met with the sight of an array of beautiful colours and fabrics. I am overwhelmed and excited by the large amounts clothes I could wear but I had already selected to wear to the Reaping, I wanted to mix with the weather and my name, winter so I picked an ice themed dress. I pull the velvet dress from the wardrobe and feeling the soft fabric under my fingertips, it was warm and lovely to touch.

I pull the dress over my head and smooth out of the creases with my hands before looking to the long mirror before me. My dress was an icy blue shade and covered my embroidered icicles and snowflakes around the bodice and going down to the long flowing skirt, it was followed by a long white train, with more snowflakes on the train that will trail across the floor giving my walk flamboyance and style. Hopefully I would look gorgeous at this year's reaping. I looked at my appearance in the mirror sighing slightly, feeling not the beautiful women I wanted to be. My skin was a coffee shade and blended well with my dark chocolate brown eyes, and the tint of blush in my full and slightly chubby cheeks. My full lips were painted a sparkly lilac shade, my personal favourite lip gloss. My dark brown hair was in its natural ringlets and falls to sculpt my face, the dark brown hair faded to a golden honey blonde, which I thought was rather stylish. The dress hugged my curvy figure nicely and I knew I would be getting wolf whistles yet again from the old men in the crowd. I shuddered at the thought.

* * *

I walk out of the house, closing the dark wooden door behind me as I left without eating. I knew we would be eating a large feast on the train so I made sure not to eat loads before boarding the train we would be riding up until we reached the Capitol.

As I walked down the snow covered streets of District Four, listening to the clacking of my heels against the pavement. I watched the twinkling snowflakes fall from sky, twirling in the brisk wind which brushed against my cheek, like an unwanted kiss.

I saw the podium behind the gates to Reaping area by the large imposing building of town hall. It was a large grey, brick building with the white flag of Panem hanging from the spire at the top of the building. The doors were made of glass and had golden handles to open the door and meet with the Mayor Senior. He was gruff old man who was well known for favouring his family members and friends over other more needy members of his district, no one could oppose him though. He was the mayor and they were simply people. That was the wonder of Panem, there were millions of us, but we were all voiceless.

I walked up to the birch coloured stage, my heels still clacking against the wood. I walk up to the large black marble podium, taping on the microphone once, testing it was working. I smile brightly to the whole of District Four, my voice bright and chipper as it could be.

"Welcome District Four, to the Fortieth annual Hunger Games, may the odds be ever in your favour!" I beamed at the emotionless faces before me.

 _Yet again I would watch young people die for no reason. God I hate my life sometimes._

* * *

 _Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, You and I'll be safe and sound. ~ Taylor Swift, Safe and Sound_

* * *

 **Hello Panem!**

 **I am sooooo exicted about the ever looming Mockingjay Part 2, so excited that I had to write a story about the games!**

 **In this story your tributes will be put in an arena and forced to fight to the death in hopes of gaining a better life outside of the games and back in Panem. This story will be set way before Katniss' time so there will be no signs of our beautiful and courageous mockingjay! Sorry Katniss lovers, that just the way this story has to be.**

 **Rules: No Mary-Sues or Gary-Stus, but that's a given. ONLY submissions through PM! (If you are a guest you can submit but I won't post your review just copy down your tribute) DETAIL FOR GOODNESS SAKES PEOPLE! If you say stuff like "brown hair and blue eyes." I won't hesitate to delete your character on the spot. Also you can submit up to three tributes but one must be a bloodbath tribute.**

 **Please be original and don't use normal names, make sure they're hunger games names. Also I'm totally open to LGBT tributes, I love diversity and I am a massive gay rights supporter! Also be the same with nationality! Drop me a review, you're more likely to get your tribute in if you do so!**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Nickname:**

 **Nationality:**

 **District:**

 **Reaped/Volunteer:**

 **Reaction/Reason:**

 **Reaping Outfit**

 **Appearance: (Include clothes)**

 **Personality:**

 **Backstory:**

 **Family:**

 **Strengths:**

 **Weaknesses:**

 **Favourite Weapon:**

 **Interview Outfit:**

 **Interview Angle:**

 **Bloodbath tribute:**

 **Tactics:**

 **Fears:**

 **Preferred Death:**

 **Sexuality:**

 **Romance:**

 **Extra Info:**

 **Have fun submitting and I'll see you all soon!**

 **~I've been Jotunheim Storm~**

 **Thanks xoxo**


	2. Chapter One, District One

Chapter 1, District 1

* * *

 _If you could see me now would you recognize me? Would you pat me on the back or would you criticize me? Would you follow every line on my tear-stained face? Put your hand on a heart that was cold as the day you were taken away? ~ If You Could See Me Now, The Script_

 **Anya Rose Nicholas, 16, DISTRICT ONE**

* * *

The light beams break through the pale curtains hung loosely around my window, the shimmering light shining brightly onto my face making me blink several times before opening my eyes. I feel the crust of sleep stick to my eyelids and I use my fingers to be rid my eyes of the disgusting eye mucus. I really wish I didn't have to learn at school that sleep is actually mucus.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, dangling them back and forth before finally pulling myself from the mattress and standing up, stretching slightly as I yawned.

 _Reaping day,_ I sigh as I stretch my arms high above my head again, hearing the clicking of my bones as I roll my shoulders back.

I pad down the stairs, clinging tightly to the handle of the spiral staircase made of glass which led me to the large marble kitchen which I knew my father would be sitting in right now. He approaches reaping day the exact way each year; makes my favourite breakfast scrambled egg, buys me a new dress for the occasion and then spends the rest of the morning, praying I don't join the games.

 _Little did he know this year was the year I would volunteer._

My father looks up from his large mug of coffee when I walk through the door, and he gives me a brief smile which I return politely. He rises from his wooden seat by the glass table, and walks over to me, hugging my small and thin frame to his large and slightly bulker one. I slink my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest and breathing in his musky scent. Shortly after embracing me, he breaks away from my hug and takes a seat once more. I take a seat opposite him and smile as he passes me the plate of scrambled egg on toast. _So predictable._

My eyes scan the large kitchen we are sitting in. The walls were of a dark marble, which shimmers in the bright lighting of the morning. The floor was also the same sparkling marble, in a black hue. My father installed a wooden stove at the back of the room many years ago, it was a birch colour and was stained badly by my father's messy cooking habits. He always says he will clean it up but he never does. The surfaces are limestone and a green colour, the same shade as the overhead cabinets. The cabinets are filled with many foods, ingredients and other such things.

I begin to eat the breakfast, the egg soft and tasty upon my overly fussy palate. Before I can take another bite of my breakfast my father begins to speak to me.

"Anya, as you're aware you lost your mother a long time ago and I just wanted to tell you how proud she would have been of the young lady you've become. As have I, and we both love you very much," he beams brightly, as takes my hand in his own and massages the back of my hand soothingly. _He almost makes me feel guilty._ And I can't help but gulp back some tears.

I nod simply, squeezing his hand back tightly before returning to the breakfast before me shovelling it all into my mouth quickly wanting to escape the emotional atmosphere that now clung to the room like blood clings to a knife. Which I would know being a career.

* * *

I rise from my chair, pushing it in quietly before running upstairs without uttering another word to my father. I cling to the handrail trying not to burst into tears. _How could you be so selfish Anya? Are you just going to leave the man who raised you? He is your father and you are abandoning him._ I ignore the thoughts assaulting me and walk into my bedroom, flopping onto my badly made bed.

I sigh thinking about all the reasons why I shouldn't leave my life in district one behind. My father is the first reason of course, my father is my rock and the kindest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He will be shattered when he finds out I'm leaving him. If I am to die, what reason will he have to live? I'm the only thing he has left and I can't deny it's likewise. Well him and my girlfriend Esme. Esme is the most patient and gorgeous human being I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. When I leave I will not be able to let the visions of my old life leave me. I know, deep down, their loving faces will be the things haunting me. Not the child murdering games.

But then I remember why I'm leaving, to find out who my mother really was before she died. My father's stories have always ben webs of fiction, fiction to soothe me as I slept. I now want the truth however much it will hurt me. I would rather know the uncertain truth than a pleasurable and sweet lie of what really happened.

I finally persuade myself to pull my tired body from the comfort of the messy bed I lie upon. I shuffle over to the closet, pulling out my usual attire of clothing. I put on a belted tunics and tan cargo pants. I shove my feet into a black combat boots, before kneeling down to do up the laces of the same colour. Lastly I put the blue kerchief with a rose pattern on it into my wavy hair. I sometimes think about putting my hair up but then I remember how much Esme hates my hair like that. I want to spend my last moments with her pleasing her. I would hate for her last memory of me before the games to be a bad one.

I then run from my opulent oak house, leaving my father with a firm promise I will see him before the reaping. When he asks where I'm going, I simply tell him Esme's name and he smirks knowingly, nodding me on my way.

* * *

I see her almost instantly, her deep blue eyes finding mine. She runs over to me her short blonde hair swishing in the wind as she runs to me. When she reaches me, I embrace her tightly. I hold her form to me, burying my face in her shoulder, I breathe in her natural scent of lavender which in all honesty drives me crazy. I pull away from her, holding her at arm's length so I could get a proper look at her. Her skin is a light ivory shade and her face is littered with freckles giving her an appearance of youth. She smiles, giving me a glimpse of her adorable dimples. I find myself running my fingers through her short blonde hair that falls just under her chin. Her blue eyes are cast down and filled with tears. She is the only one who knows what I'm doing today.

"Do you really have to go?" she snivels slightly.

I nod silently, pulling her back into my tight embrace. I allow her to squeeze me tightly to her thin stature. I try and ignore the pain that pangs against my chest as she lets a tear fall from her blue eyes. _Why did they all have to make it so hard?_

I then hear the metallic ring of the bell, alerting us we had to now orderly file into the town centre. Readying ourselves for the reaping. Before I leave, I notice my father standing about fifty yards away. I squeeze his hand, leaving with his good luck wish as Esme and I file into the sixteen year old section.

* * *

My eyes find the marble stage of district one, as my ears pick up the clacking of heels I know our escort has made her away onto the stage. I can't help but find myself staring at the beautiful young woman before me, I know Esme is too. Her slate grey eyes smile at every single one of us and her pale skin shimmers in the dim lighting of the morning sun. She is wearing an opalescent dress, which is skin tight. The dress is strapless. She's wearing stark white heels, and her midnight black hair in a tight fishtail braid. I know many of the boys in this district fancy our escort and a lot of the girls do too. If the girls don't fancy her, they want to be just like her. Which, in my humble opinion, is understandable.

"Hello! Yet again I, Allure Velvet, have the pleasure to stand before the most wonderful district, district one! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour. Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" she coos, her voice high pitch and full of joy. If this were any other district the people would hate her. But it isn't.

Then projected onto the large screen before us is a picture of the young President. Her name, President Willow. Her first name is unbeknownst to us. The woman with the brutal and nasal voices natters on about the importance of the games before wishing us well. I would like to say I am listening but in actual fact I am simply soothing Esme by rubbing the back of her hand slowly, trying to stop her from crying.

"As always, ladies first!" she exclaims, her voice still shrill and frankly getting on my nerves despite the fact I admire her. "Royal Swift!" she calls out cheerily.

I see the brown haired girl making her way towards the stage and before she can reach it, I stop her, running out.

"I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute!" I scream at the top of my lungs, before passing Royal. I push the young fourteen year old out of the way before swanning onto the stage.

With a swish of my hair, and wink from my left eye I tell Allure my name then finishing my statement boldly, telling her I am the next victor. The only thing that stops my celebration is the tear stained face of my father and the misty eyes of Esme. I then stop in my tracks, becoming fixated on my shoes. Allure seems confused by my lack of excitement all of a sudden and then goes onto reaping the boys. Before she delves her hand into the bowl, she gives me a look of disgust and then smiles again.

"Perry Raven!" she calls out, her grey eyes searching for the latest tribute.

But before the young boy can react someone screams out the same words as I did. I look down to see a handsome young man. He has an oval shaped head with short, curly brown hair that reaches his ears only. He has thin eyebrows with sparkly blue eyes that light up whenever the sun hits them. He has puffy cheeks and small pink lips. This boy is wearing a sleeveless hoodie without anything under. He wears long khaki pants and white low tops. He also has a cap that he wears backwards that says 'District 1' and has diamonds enlarged on the front.

"Hello district one, I am Topher Catterin. Remember that name, it's a winner," he smirks, giving me a _winning smile._

Allure then takes both of our hands, raising them high above her head before announcing we were district one's winning tributes. She waves the district a loving goodbye, before leading us off to the Justice Building to say our last goodbyes.

* * *

I am sat down on a plush yellow sofa, before being met by the eyes of my father. His face is streaked by tears and his eyes are overfilling with unshed tears. I stand up, and bring him into an embrace, burying my face into his shoulder as he holds me close, silent tears wetting my back. He pulls away, holding me at arm's length before passing me something. I look down to the thing my hand, it is the leather bound book of my mother.

"Come home," he whispers before placing a kiss on the top of my head. He then leaves, as in finger the soft leather of the old book.

Esme runs in, she is tormented by my leaving and my possible death. I hug her tightly and then pull away, pressing my lips to hers aggressively. I feel the surge of electricity between us and I cup her face in my hands, pulling her small frame towards me. She wraps her hands in my dark hair as she kisses back with a passion. I notice as we kiss, her face is being stained by tears, hot against mine and her cheeks. She pulls away, pressing her forehead to mine, her eyes filled with tears I know she will cry until I return.

"Come home, promise me you'll come home to me," she whispers.

I nod not convincing her or me, but I do so anyway. She then leaves, letting me stand alone in the empty room. I sit down, looking at the book before me.

"You better be worth it mum."

* * *

 _You hit me once. I hit you back. You gave a kick. I gave a slap. You smashed a plate over my head. Then I set fire to our bed ~ Florence and the Machine._

 **Topher Catterin, 17, DISTRICT ONE**

* * *

I rise at the crack of dawn breathing in the smell of scented candles in my room. Today the scent is ocean breeze, a personal favourite of mine. I have recently found myself lighting such candles before I go to sleep, they fill my room with soft scents and my head with pleasant dreams. Pleasant dreams of standing above a bloody hill of murdered people as I am crowned the winner of the hunger games.

 _Sweet dreams._

Today is a special day, Reaping Day, personally the best day in the calendar. Finally I get to show the rest of the district one people why I am the perfect tribute. I know today is the first time in my life I will finally be able to make my mother proud of me. I will no longer have to see the disgusted glint of rage in her blue eyes. She will no longer be able to blame me for being the reason she didn't get to volunteer. I will be even better than she could have ever dreamed. I will everything she wants and more.

So okay maybe I am a mummy's boy, but it's better than not having her love at all. I know kids that have killed their parents, even _I_ shudder at the thought. But they have been locked away by the capitol and put in solitary confinement, _god I adore the capitol._

I run down the stairs to be greeted by my family on this o so special day. The day were I finally get to join the hunger games. The first person I am met by is my younger brother Vine, he has been telling me the whole week how I have to win the games otherwise I'll be a disappointment and blah, blah, blah. Seriously little bro, like I, the great Topher could lose. I don't lose, not even at checkers.

He, this time, doesn't pester me about the games or ask me about my strategy, he simply passes me a plate full of exotic breakfast food and walks away, slowly. His steps are like trudges and his head is hung lowly, I cannot help but wonder of he is secretly upset that his big brother is gonna leave him. Possibly forever. His wide green eyes are filled with the same sadness I saw in his eyes when his girlfriend Trix broke up with him.

Next I see my father, his dull blue eyes are filled with the same disappointment I usually see upon the face of my mother, she is often disgusted by my father's distaste for the games. Even I don't understand why he hates them so. He hides himself behind the comfort of the newspaper he is reading. I can simply see the headline: **Reaping Day for the 40** **th** **Annual Hunger Games!** How you can't be excited about that is beyond me.

Lastly I am swooped up into the arms of my mother as she hugs me tightly to her chest as she kisses me several times into my dark curls. I try to squirm from her hug, but she pulls me even closer to her. I splutter out the word "let go," before she finally lets me breathe again.

"There's my boy, Vine, you should be exactly like your brother when you grow up. I know you'll win sweetie, and when you come home, we'll throw you a massive party and you can have marble cake, I know it's your favourite," she promises, before even knowing the outcome of the games. But then again, I am fabulous.

I sit down at the table, trying to avoid eye contact with my father who now openly stares me down. I shovel the strawberries, blueberries and black currents into my mouth quickly, no longer wanting to spend time sitting opposite a man who probably would throttle me where I stand.

* * *

I sprint up the stairs, almost tripping over my own two feet but I balance myself before long. I saunter all the way over to the large closet at the back of the room I am standing in and begin to make a selection of clothing after opening the ebony coloured doors. I finally go for what I call "The Topher Classic." This means, to those who don't already know, I'm wearing a sleeveless hoodie without anything under. I also long khaki pants that are baggy at the top and skinny at my ankles with pure white low-tops. Lastly I wear a cap that backwards that says 'District 1' and has diamonds enlarged on the front. I look at myself in the mirror and wink at my handsome appearance.

Before leaving the house I press at small kiss to the flushed cheek of my mother before walking away, with a bounce in my step and a confidence exuberating from me.

I make a swift exit from my house making sure to wink at all the pretty girls as I pass, loving the way they flush a red shade as I do so. I allow the peacekeeper to prick my finger, registering me for the games, frankly he should have just requested me to win. I give the bald peacekeeper a cheeky smirk before moving on into my age's section.

* * *

I stare up to the marble stage, loving the way the small bouquets of roses were glistening with the soft shimmers of the ice that collected upon the red buds of the flowers. When I hear the clack of heels I know Allure is making her way onto the stage, I can't help but wolf whistle as she makes an appearance in the figure hugging dress she has chosen to wear this year.

"Hello! Yet again I, Allure Velvet, have the pleasure to stand before the most wonderful district, district one! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour. Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" I smile at her, hoping she'll catch a glimpse of me and fall desperately in love with me. Sadly she doesn't so I carry on listening to her speech about the Games. _Yawn._

After listening to her speak after what seems like an age, I watch in anticipation as she makes her way to the crystal ball. This is the part when she selects the tributes.

"As always, ladies first!" she exclaims as we all hold our breaths, "Royal Swift!" she calls out cheerily.

I watch as a small fourteen year old, with dark brown hair makes her way to the stage slowly but sure enough someone yells "I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute!" I cannot help but roll my eyes, as I turn to see the girl who is taking Royal's place. I know her, she's Anya. We used to train together. She has hip length, jet black hair that is extremely wavy. She is wearing it loose in her hair she wears a blue kerchief with a rose pattern on her head. Her dark brown eyes are almond shaped. She is wearing a belted tunics and tan cargo pants. She swishes her hair, and winks from her left eye, while telling Allure her name then finishing her statement boldly, telling her she is the next victor. Suddenly she loses all faith and becomes more self-conscious and no longer speaks to our escort. _How strange._

Allure then pulls out a name from the male, bowl. She unfolds it theatrically before reading it aloud.

"Perry Raven!"

I scream the infamous words, walking towards the stage with my winning swagger.

"Hello district one, I am Topher Catterin. Remember that name, it's a winner," I smirks, giving Anya a winning smile.

Allure then takes both of our hands, raising them high above her head before announcing we were district one's winning tributes. I grin from ear to ear soaking up the screams of love from the crowd. She waves the district a loving goodbye, before leading us off to the Justice Building to say our last goodbyes.

* * *

I am led to the Justice building and sat down on a small orange couch, waiting to say goodbye to my loving family.

My mother bursts through the doors, giddy with every step and she hugs me tightly, yet again knocking all the breath out of me as I hug her back fiercly. I pull away, noticing her tear stained face.

"I'm so proud of you Toph, you are gonna be the best victor Panem has ever seen my sweet!" she cries happily. For a moment I thought she was crying because she was upset. _Why would she be?_

Next my brother Vine, comes over to me and before he can react I have him in a headlock. I ruffle his brown hair affectionately and he squirms from my hold. When I finally let him go he punches me lovingly on the arm. I pretend it doesn't hurt but it sure as hell does. _Feisty bugger._

Lastly my father looks at me with his disappointed eyes, as he shakes my hand firmly. I knew his reception would be frosty but frankly I fear my mother's wrath more than his. They then walk out of the building, leaving me to sit alone. _This will be good!_

* * *

 _I'm afraid of Americans._ _I'm afraid of the world._ _I'm afraid I can't help it._ _I'm afraid I can't._ _I'm afraid of Americans ~ David Bowie._

 **Winter Freedom Dowry, 19, DISTRICT FOUR ESCORT**

* * *

I sit on the train, making my way to the Capitol with my newly acquired tributes. In comes a servant, with bright ginger hair and wild green eyes. If he wasn't a servant he would be insanely attractive. I assume he is an avox but then again I am sure I heard him speak earlier this morning. He passes me a small slip of paper, with delicate writing upon it. I thank the man before shooing him away, wanting to be alone with this letter from the President no doubt.

 _Dearest Winter,_

 _Enclosed are the list of tributes. Please do share with your tributes their competition._

 _Many thanks,_

 _Bonus Willow._

 _DISTRICT ONE MALE: Topher Catterin_

 _DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: Anya Rose Nicholas_

 _DISTICT TWO MALE: Atticus Hamilton_

 _DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: Esmeralda "Mera" Annalise Dawn_

 _DISTRICT THREE MALE: Brin Dale_

 _DISTRICT THREE FEMALE: Aplica Drive_

 _DISTRICT FOUR MALE: Commander Vince_

 _DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: Charm Ali Brine_

 _DISTRICT FIVE MALE: Welt Watt_

 _DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: Jemima Lerato_

 _DISTRICT SIX MALE: Verne Barrett_

 _DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: Cyra Belmonte_

 _DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: Jackson Arella Strome_

 _DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: Emma "Em" Stevens_

 _DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: Rollag Sash_

 _DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: Lea Sash_

 _DISTRICT NINE MALE: Buck Wheat Zea_

 _DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: Rye Zea_

 _DISTRICT TEN MALE: Keith Bartlett_

 _DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: Cardi Hazmat_

 _DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: Hezekia Rune_

 _DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: Paislee Fielding_

 _DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: Abraxos Morganshire_

 _DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: Devon Cynthia Rose_

I read through the names, already seeing a large amount of potential.

"Oh shit."

* * *

 **Hello lovely members of Panem!**

 **I know it has been too long since I have updated, I am so sorry but hopefully I cam back with a bang!**

 **I need to ask two favours of you, which you must answer if you submitted a character; What is there celebrity look alike? and Quote(s) I know I should of asked before hand but hey, you live and you learn. I am hoping to make a website so that is why I need the info.**

 **Here is the website:** **battleworn . weebly . com (Just without the spaces)**

 **Question time, to be answered in the reviews.**

 **Did you like the chapter?**

 **Did you like the tributes**

 **Why/Why Not?**

 **What was the best line of the chapter?**

 **Anything Else?**

 **See you soon**

 **~I've been Jotunheim Storm~**

 **Thanks xoxo**


	3. Many Tributes, Many Districts: Part One

Many Tributes, Many Districts

Part One

 _Griffin Wellwood, District Two_

Griffin sits on the edge of his stone porch, swinging his long legs off the edge, while he breathes in the air that smells a lot like wet clay. His blue, glass like eyes scan the area in which he lives in during the Reaping month. Before him is a large quarry, which has recently been turned into a swimming pool for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. Unless he were to bring along one of his many girlfriends. The crumbling rocks are different shades of beige, each becoming darker and more intense as they reach the ground. The way the rocks crumbled left jagged edges, jagged edges which are covered in ivy. This ivy ties itself tightly around the nook and crannies of the rock, burying its roots in the sediment.

The pool of water has stone made steps, which were well polished by the water. The water near the surface of the pool is a light aqua shade, as it got deeper and deep the shade darkened. The darkest shade is a blue that resembles royal blue. How Griffin wishes to dive into the pool, sadly it is freezing in District Two at the moment. Hopefully when he returns the water would have warmed and he can spend his time in the lavish pool.

He yawns, pulling himself from his sitting position as he makes his way into the brick house he owns. He would like to dwell upon the way his home looks, exploring every nook and cranny with his eyes and taking in the soft scent of pine wood, but alas time is not something an escort is granting with. There is never enough time.

He then begins the process of every day, getting himself ready for the reaping's. He actually did enjoy the games, when his tributes died he didn't care accept for the fact his large bonus was just flushed down the toilet.

He pulled on a soft cotton check shirt, it was blue and red. Griffin had never been about showy clothes and styles, he was comfortable enough in his natural good looks to know he didn't have to try like the other members of the Capitol. After pulling up his dark jeans and shrugging on a tan leather jacket he makes his way out of his brick house and into the world of misery that was District Two. It was nowhere near as fabulous as District One and he hated that Allure rubbed it in his face constantly.

He walked down to the stage where he stood every year, waiting to greet his wonderful tributes and lead them to a fantastic victory as they deserve. Griffin takes his rightful position in the middle of the stage, he looks to his left to see the winner of the 28th annual Hunger Games, Vacir Tremor. Vacir was a man mountain, built of muscle and brains. His eyes were a stormy blue and set in a face sculpted by cheekbones and a chiselled jaw. His hair was a dark black, tousled and messy. He wore a blue waistcoat, a navy blue tie, a white shirt and a pair of black battered jeans. _He didn't even have to try._

* * *

"Hello District Two, I am so excited to be back here again, I have high expectations for you, as I do every year… Without further ado, ladies first…" he dug his hand into the large glass bowl before pulling out a name. "Rosalyn Dawn."

A short little girl with short black hair, and dull green eyes came out from the twelve year old section and began to make her ascent up the stairs, until a young girl screamed out that she would take Rosalyn's place. A girl with emerald green eyes, long black hair and full lips, runs up to the little girl, embracing her tightly, she then kissed her on the forehead before swanning onto the stage with some confidence. She swayed her hips considerably as she made her entrance. _Playing the sexy card are we?_

"I am Mera Dawn and I am here to win, or die trying!" she announced proudly, blowing kisses to the men calling her derogatory terms below.

He smiles at her, already sussing her out. He highly doubts she even cares about her little sister she just saved from the games. People like Mera don't care for anyone. Griffin knew that.

"Now for the guys" he says while trying to find a winning tribute in the bowl. "Quill Ryans!"

The young Asian boy begins to make his way to the stage, as his eyes stare at the floor. He moves slowly and awkwardly towards us all. That is until I hear the scream of someone about his trudges. I look to see a young man wearing a dark grey sweatshirt with black cargo pants. He has a light tan, and an overall lithe built much like a swimmers. He has a jet coloured businessman haircut, and piercing sky blue eyes. The first thing Griffin notices though is he is missing hand and it has been replaced with a crude mechanical prosthetic replica.

"Atticus Hamilton," he says bluntly, before returning to his unmoving expression.

Griffin grabs both of their hands, lifting them above his head, declaring these will be the winners of this year, despite the fact Griffin isn't feeling extremely happy he has been given a slut and a cripple.

He leads the girl in the short sheer, red dress, which sparkled whenever she moved. She wore strappy heels that were about five inches high. And the boy with the crippled hand away from the stage, they left hearing the triumphant cheers.

"I'm Vacir Tremor… Do as I say and you will win, it is almost certain, I was the most fabulous victor district two has ever seen," he declares cockily, shaking the hand of Atticus and kissing the cheeks of Mera.

"I remember you, you were the hot one that was supposed to die, right?" Mera smirks cruelly.

Vacir grits his teeth together tightly, before storming off into the depths of the Justice Builing. _He always has been a diva,_ Griffin smirks.

"I think we will get along just fine," Griffin decides.

* * *

 _Scotty Jay Write, District Three._

Scotty sits on his balcony, bring the cool glass of water to his lips as he takes a small sip before breathing in the scent of carbon dioxide from the large grey factory before his house in the morning, he makes sure not to breathe in for too long otherwise he would splutter uncontrollably.

He sighs slightly to himself, he is unsure why he is even in this job, he hates the games and he hates most of the other escorts and his mentor is a snobby cow. His tributes always die and he sees the eyes of their parents every night when he tries to go to sleep.

Scotty isn't sure why he is an escort, he isn't incredibly handsome, he is nice to look at but there are better fish in the sea. He isn't witty, yeah he can make a few sarcastic comments here and there but they are rip-roaringly funny. He isn't even fashionable, he would much rather just walk around in a pair of jogging bottoms and a grey sweatshirt. But alas, he had to dress up like a show pony, not that he had ever seen a show pony.

He pulls himself up from the cold cobble stones he sat on. He walks into his house to be met by his girlfriend, Wren. Wren is wearing a knee length dress, in a lemon shade, made from lace. It is brought in at the waist by a thin brown belt. On her feet she wears crystal heels. Her skin is a milky shade and her eyes are almond shaped, her eyes the deepest brown. Her hair was cut short into a bob, with pink highlights running through it.

She walks over to Scotty, placing a soft kiss to his cheek, as he blushes like a school girl. She declares she is making pancakes but he needs to get dressed before he can have any, he pouts lightly before agreeing and walking over to the wardrobe.

He pulls out a burnt orange leather jacket and a grey shirt, he also selects a pair of ripped brown jeans and Chelsea boots. After dressing himself, he pushes his hair out of his of his face, before making his way down stairs to his girlfriend. The woman he is going to propose to after these games.

He sees Wren wearing a white lacy apron over her dress while she mixes pancake mix in her large ceramic bowl. Scotty takes a seat at the table, as Wren serves Scotty a large pancake, drizzled in honey and covered by fruit. He shovels it in, savouring the sweet taste and the melting batter in his mouth. As he chews, he notices Wren is crying slightly.

"Baby, you okay?" Scotty asks concerned, about the woman he loves dearly. He notices the fact she is rubbing her hand over her stomach nervously.

"I'm pregnant, Scotty! I should have told you sooner, I am so sorry… I understand if you want to get rid of me…" she breaks down into a fit of sobs and her fragile frame shakes as she cries.

Scotty jumps up from his seat, a tear trickled down his face and he tightly embraces his girlfriend, thrilled by the news she was giving him. He has always wanted to be a father and now his dream is coming true, with the woman he loves.

"That's fantastic, Wren! I'm over the moon!" he declares, kissing her lips softly, his hand on her stomach.

He then looks down at his electrical watch, the projection at his eye level, and he notices he is going to be late for the reaping's and then he runs leaving his girlfriend with her relived happy tears.

* * *

He runs up to the stage, made of vinyl and ignores the squeaking sound of his shoes against the floor. He sees the mentor for district three. GoGo Thomp won the tenth annual games at the age of fifteen, she managed to survive being incredibly cunning and only killed one person, she was seriously one of the greatest victors of all time. She is wearing a long black dress, covered by pixels which show how technical district three is. Her black hair is slicked back into a tight bun and her almond shaped eyes are filled with a experience Scotty was yet to discover.

"Hello District Three, I hope you are super excited for the games and the first person to be involved this year is," he digs around in the bowl looking for a tribute. "Aplica Drive!"

A young girl comes out of the 12 year old section, screaming and begging for someone to volunteer in her place. Her face is stained by tears as she finally reaches the stage. This young girl is dressed simply like most of district three. She wears a sun bleached, originally dandelion yellow, goes halfway down her shins. She's wearing grey sneakers too. She is rather adorable and Scotty can't help but feel broody. Her long, curly, golden hair flows down her shoulders to her mid-back, making her look older than she actually is. Her bright green eyes seem to shimmer in the sunlight, and her slightly pointed ears make her look like a funny little elf.

Scotty takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers together while he picks out the boy for district three.

"York Vale!" Scotty calls out, looking out for this young boy.

Scotty doesn't even get a chance to see York as someone screams that they volunteer, is this district three's first volunteer? Scotty thinks so. He sees the young boy almost instantly, he stands out in the crowd of timid science geeks. He has a mane of golden salt and pepper hair and tawny amber eyes. He is average height and has a strong build from his training. His skin tone is semi tanned. He is wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of dark trousers. When he reaches the stage his stands firm, with a small grin upon his face.

"I am Brin Dale," he says plainly before allowing his hand to be raised above his head.

"Here are your district three tributes!" Scotty declares happily.

He leads them of the stage, into the Justice Building. Before he can apologise to the young girl she runs off crying into one of the rooms where she can say goodbye to her family, Brin just stalks off silently, tossing his head to the side like a diva. Scotty is left alone, in the bright white room, standing awkwardly alone.

"Rude."

* * *

 _Winter Dowry, District Four._

Before I stride onto the stage, I get to meet with Bale Write, district four's mentor. Bale won the 39th annual games and has been living the high life ever since. He is a tall, handsome young man who managed to win the games by convincing everyone he was a ditz when in reality he was cunning and smart.

Bale is attractive, even I cannot deny that. Bale has curly brown hair that is swept to one side and has blonde highlights running through it. His eyes are a hazel colour and his skin is just as tanned as the rest of the district four members, they lived by the sea making them used to sunlight. He is also a very good dresser, he is currently wearing a purple shirt with white dots on it and over this he is wearing a blue tweed jacket, with navy blue elbow patches. On his legs he wears grey jeans and a pair of battered old sneakers.

"Hey Winter, this year is gonna be good! I can feel it in my bones, can you?" he smirks at me playfully, he has been trying to hit on me since last year but I can't date a victor, it is against the policy of the games. However much I want to…

Not that I do.

He offers me his hand, which I take gracefully, as we swan onto the stage in sync. I walk up to the microphone, smiling playfully at all of the people below me, _people whose children will be killed in the games_ I think sadly.

"Welcome District Four, to the Fortieth annual Hunger Games, may the odds be ever in your favour!" I beamed at the emotionless faces before me.

This is when large cannons of confetti go of, spraying the large amounts of pastel pieces of felt float into the crowd, as young kids jump up to grab the things their older siblings ignore.

"As always, ladies first," I say, before delving into the bowl of names. I thank the mystical being who decides my fate made sure I and the rest of my family live in the Capitol, I would die if I entered the games. Both literally and figuratively. "Charm Brine!"

I see her almost instantly, she seems numb with shock. Charm has pale skin colour and platinum blond hair that is straight. She has small pale green eyes and a small nose with freckles. This young girl is wearing a light green dress with white around the collar and sleeves. And she wears a silver heart shaped locket necklace. She walks up to the stage slowly, her fragile frame shaking as she cries silently. When she gets onto the stage she break down, crying full on. I put my arm around her shoulder and hold her tightly to me. Bale then understands that he has to call out the males.

"Okay, onto the guys, good luck everyone!" he begins to dig around in the bowl, before becoming satisfied with the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. "Quartz Blue!"

 _Surprisingly_ someone volunteered, he screamed out the immortal words, before running up to the stage, excited about the prospects of the games ahead of him. This boy is rather striking and interesting to look at. He has a very straight appearance. He has light brown hair, which falls to his shoulders. He has beautiful sea green eyes that many people get lost in. He has a nice tan. He has straight white teeth. He has a faint scar that starts from his eyebrow and goes to his hair line. He is wearing a white skirt and a pair of khaki trousers.

"Commander Vince, the next winner of the Hunger Games. I will bring District Four more fortune than Bale, the over hyped pretty boy, ever did," he spits bitterly, in the direction of Bale who looks deeply offended in Commander's direction.

I declare that these two are the next victors, before wishing the district well in all their endeavours for the rest of the year, they all wave us goodbye, but I watch one man in the crowd cry. I assume this is one of the fathers of the children being taken away from them.

* * *

When we walk into the Justice Building, I notice that Charm has stopped crying at the prospects of seeing her family before she has to go to the Capitol to fight to the death for her own life. She scampers off to one of the rooms and Commander goes in the opposite direction.

I wave Bale goodbye, as he makes his way to the train. I, being an escort, have to go have a quick costume change before getting on the train. Personally I think it is stupid but then again, these are the Hunger Games, all of it is stupid.

I walk up the glass spiral stair case, walking into the lavish room that belongs to all escorts for district four. I open the door, letting my hair down, as it falls to its naturally bouncing curls, I notice there is someone in my room. I let out a little yelp of shock as I see the servant boy from the train before me. He is standing only in his black trousers and boots. His skin is a pale shade of white and his skin is blemished by large scars and cuts. I look shocked at him and nervous at his presence. _How did these scars come to be, who did them to him or are they self-inflicted?_ I can't help but stare at the young boy before me. He is so striking, I cannot help but feel drawn to him.

This boy has large emerald green eyes and ginger hair, which is styled in a way which meant all of his hair is jelled up into a quiff. His skin is freckled and his lips large and rogued.

"My lady," he says courteously, before bowing to me like I was royalty of some kind. "I am sorry I intruded, it was out of place and I have wronged."

He opens the door to the cupboard, after picking out my pink feathered dress, he passes me a large whip. He kneels down before me, expecting me to hit him.

"Stand up, I'm not going to hit you," I told him, why he would think I would do such a thing surprises me.

He gives me a brief smile, before walking out of the room, still without his shirt on. He goes to leave, but before he can I ask for his name, he informs me he is called Enigma.

I watch him go, before peeling out of my winter dress and putting the feathered dress on. It came in at the waist and had a long train, covered by all different pink feathers, which trailed across the floor. Around the bodice, it was covered by jewels and the waistband was a silk bow.

"Enigma, what an interesting name," I muse, before leaving the room and all the memories of the strange ginger boy behind.

* * *

 **I have finally managed to get away from revision to provide you with an update, you must be so proud of me!**

 **Thank you for all the reviews, as I will say every time I update, if you have a charterer in this story, you must review so I know if I am writing them correctly or not.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter and here are some questions to be answered via review.**

 **Who was your favourite escort?**

 **Who was your least favourite?**

 **Favourite mentor?**

 **Least favourite?**

 **Tribute favourite?**

 **Tribute least favourite?**

 **Did you enjoy the chapter?**

 **Till we meet again!**

 **~I've been Jotunheim Storm~**

 **Thanks xoxo**


	4. Many Tributes, Many Districts: Part Two

Many Tributes, Many Districts

Part Two

 _Rustic Rivendale, District Five_

Rustic twiddles a long strand of her blonde hair between her fingertips, as she sighs looking out to the dismal lands of District Five. _What on Earth did I do to deserve such a crappy district? I don't have a career pack or even one of the pretty districts._ Rustic sighs again, looking out to the almost barren lands of district five, there was not much to see but the clouds of ash that settle in the skyline.

The only good thing about district five is the money that surrounds such an important, but ugly, district. Rustic pulls herself up from the patch of grass that she had sat on for some time, in hopes of catching a glimpse of something remotely attractive or interesting. Alas, there is nothing that would tempt Rustic away from her small but luxurious cabin on the edge of the district.

How Rustic wishes she could be back in the Capitol so she could again wear one of her lavish ocean blue gowns and have her hair styled above her head in adventurous ways. District five doesn't provide the correct locations for nice clothing, nor does it have stylists to deal with her somewhat unruly blonde mop of hair.

But no, she must be watching over the tributes that will surely die because they aren't careers from one, two and four. They aren't intelligent like three and they don't understand food like eleven, they are practically as hopeless as district twelve and twelve is the worse. How Phoenix, district twelve's escort, remains so positive is beyond Rustic and her mental capabilities.

Which, let me tell you, are few and far between.

* * *

Rustic goes to her room, lit by a large chandelier made from diamonds. The floor is carpeted by bear skin and bleached a white shade. The walls are painted a pale orange shade and covered by small rhinestones, on Rustic's instruction. She does love things that sparkle. They almost distract her sometimes.

She picks out a dress made of the finest satin in the Capitol. It is a fuchsia shade and the bodice of the dress is embroidered by golden thread. She pulls the soft fabric over her head and shimmies slightly in the dress to make sure the large slit down the middle shows of her tanned, well sculpted legs.

She walks out of the house but before she does, she picks out her rhinestone silver shoes, shoving her feet in them before running as she realises she will be late for the reapings and surprisingly enough, she does want President Willows to have her executed.

That's what happened to the last district five escort, Gecko Rivendale, Rustic's brother.

* * *

Before Rustic has to go onto the stage she meet with the twelve annual Hunger Games Victor, Precious Don. Precious had extremely tanned skin and deep brown eyes, and her hair matches the shade of her eyes and cascades down her back in curls. Precious has always dressed simply and now she is wearing a white linen shirt and a pair of battered old jeans and sandals encrusted with jewels. Around her wide eyes she wears a blue eye liner.

"Rustic, darling!" she coos, running over to the younger escort, hugging her tightly to her body, allowing to breathe in her scent of pine wood.

"Oh, Precious, dear you look fabulous!" Rustics says, her tone over the top and completely and utterly fake. _I hate this Bitch._

The reason behind this is simply because Precious is intelligent, beautiful and simply charming, Rustic hates it when people can out do her. And Precious does, in every single god damn way.

They walk onto the stage hand in hand, despite the fact they both hate each other more than the government hates the rebels. When Rustic makes it up onto the stage, she makes sure to swish her hips and show of her model like legs. She can see Precious tutting and she makes a mental note to make her life a living hell this year.

"Hell you district five beauties, I hope you are all doing well and may the odds forever be in your favour," she says, before delving her hands into the bowl for the girls of district five. "Jemima Lerato!"

Jemima initially protests strongly, fighting against Peacekeepers fiercely. She slams her head into the face shield of one of the Peacekeepers and Rustic can't help but gasp as she watches a little blooded tooth fall to the floor. It is then she gives in and makes her way up to the stage. Jemima is an intimidating presence simply because she is so massive. Jemima is a very tall woman of dark skin colouring. She has a thickset, curvy body. Her eyes are dark brown. Her poofy, thick black hair is cut at the shoulders and continually held back with a navy bandana. She wears a white shirt and a navy skirt.

" _Lovely_ start Jemima, boys next!" she says before picking out a name from the large bowl on the other side of the stage that takes up most of the centre of district five. "Welt Watt!"

He breaks down and pushes everyone out of the way. He looks around scared and tries his best to find an escape route. He looks to run but every corner he goes to, there's too many people there or peacekeepers are waiting for him. He realises that there's no escape so he drops onto his knees, pours out crying, and begs for someone to volunteer for him. Rustic watches on, almost sorry for the little boy.

Almost.

When he finally pulls himself up from the floor, he walks onto the stage with a very deflated and broken look upon his features. Welt has dark black hair hangs in a mop over his forehead, hiding his face. He has yellow eyes that sparkle in the midday sunlight with a peachy complexion. A tear falls onto his sparkling gray-blue hoodie. Alongside the hoodie he wears dark wash jeans and light brown boots.

Rustic grabs Jemima and Welt hands, lifting them high above her head, as she gives the camera her award winning smile.

No seriously, it has won awards.

"Thank you district five!"

Rustic walks off the stage, with the two tributes hands still in hers despite the fact she wants to break free from these grubby little urchins. When they reach the Justice Building both of the kids run off in different directions to say their last goodbyes to their families.

Rustic goes to meet up with Precious so they could get on the train together. The one fault of the Justice Building is the fact there is only one elevator, precious got there first and as Rustic runs, precious keeps it open. When she finally gets there, after realising that heels aren't meant for running, Precious presses the up button, leaving Rustic to sulk on the ground floor.

 _Bitch._

* * *

 _Indigo Ballantynn, District Six_

Indigo wakes up at the crack of dawn, as the light creeps through his white curtains and the shimmering beams settle on his eyelids. He has to blink a few time before he is able to open his eyes and face the bright rays of light that always disturb his pleasant sleep.

He slowly pulls the cream coloured duvet from his body, letting the air from outside to cool his body. And for a few moments he lays there, inhaling deeply and exhaling deeply as well. He thinks about everything the games has brought him, fame, fortune and luxury. He also thinks of everything these games have taken from him innocence, youth and sleep.

He lies to himself constantly that he sleeps pleasantly, without nightmares and visions of demons from beyond the grave. But in reality all he sees the death of all his once pure tributes. He had looked after a small girl named Eyre. She was only twelve when she was reaped, her eyes were a caramel shade and her hair fell in golden tresses. When she entered the games she was the first target in the bloodbath and one of the older tributes from district two snapped her neck. Her district partner Tove made it to the last three but was beaten Bale from district four.

Around Indigo's pale wrist he wears the small golden charm bracelet Eyre once wore. He finally pulls himself up from the bed, ruffling his dark brown hair out of his eyes and making sure his bracelet is in place. Eyre is the only tribute he actually cared about.

He goes over to his large closet and begins to feel through all of this soft clothing trying to pick out something suitable for such a _great_ day. In the end he picks out a rather acceptable suit in a beige colour, with matching beige trousers and to finish of the look he wears a navy blue shirt and a grey tie. He shoves his feet into some sensible shoes and he jells his hair up out of his pale face.

He walks through the doors of his bedroom into the living room he has changed about to make it suit his personal preference. The large sofa, covered by large cushions sat in the middle of the room and in front of it the large projector that often showed talent shows, modelling and other such trivial things. Around the room he has many potted plants and books of all colours, shapes and topics. In reality Indigo is a shy man who would much rather read his books than spend time with the over top members of the Capitol.

* * *

He goes to the stove, ready to make himself some scrambled eggs but before he does he notices something almost haunting.

The dress Eyre wore in the arena, until this year the tributes would wear their favourite clothes into the arena. The 40th annual games made it compulsory for all to wear life benefiting jump suits.

The worse thing about the pleated sunflower colour dress is the large crimson blood stain down the middle of it, the blood that trickled from her head all the way down to her dress as she died right at the start of the games.

Hands quivering and shaking he picks up the dress and holds it close to his body, remembering all about the little girl he cared about so much. He feels his tears soaking into the dress as he whole body quakes with a broken sensation.

"I failed you Eyre," he whispers.

He finds inside the dress there is a small piece of card with writing upon it, he opens the card and begins to read the printed lettering.

 _You think this is cold Indigo?_

 _Just wait to see what we have in store for this year's games and your tributes._

 _Think of crossing us, and we will cut of the life support for your precious little sister Clarity._

 _You don't think we'd do that?_

 _Try us._

 _Bonus Willows, President of Panem._

His knees now buckle and he falls to the floor, a sobbing wreck has he clutches the dress the young girl once wore. He just sits there for a while, cursing the games, cursing the President and cursing his weakness that he let them see. _You should have been stronger._

He gets up from the floor, his skin stained by his tears of his so called weakness.

Little did Indigo know his weakness is simply called compassion.

* * *

He walks out of his house and through the crowded streets of district six, he sees crying parents and shaking children all preparing themselves for the games. All preparing to die.

Indigo makes his way behind the large stage, to meet with the mentor for these young kids. The winner of the 35th Hunger Games stands awkwardly behind the large stage, as he plays with a ruffled white shirt he is wearing. Tele Ways, somehow manged to survive the games with only two kills, how he did this is beyond Indigo's knowledge. Tele is a man almond shaped eyes, deep brown pupils and soft ruffled brown hair. It is known that Tele is of Asian descent, whatever Asia is.

"Hello District Six, are we ready to have a fabulous year? I know I am! So ladies, which one of you lucky bunch gets to spend a whole month with yours truly?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows before shoving his hand into the large bowl of names. When he is satisfied with the piece of paper, he picks it out and unfolds it reading the name aloud. "Opal Storm!"

Before the young girl named Opal can make it to the stage, an older girl barges past her, pushing her out of the way so she can make it onto the stage. _Wait is someone from six actually volunteering? This never happens, literally never._

"I am Cyra Belmonte and I will bring honour to our district!" the young girl beams, her light brown eyes glistening as she speaks.

Cyra is a fair-skinned girl, with a taller-than-average height. She possesses a more lean and slender build. Her eyes are light brown and her raven hair is cropped short in an undercut style, with the longer layers sweeping towards her left eye. She wears a cream coloured shirt dress, with the addition of a cropped black blazer and lace-up ankle boots.

 _Interesting._

"Onto the boys," he says before unfolding the sheet of paper in his hands. "Orion Blake!"

"I volunteer!" a young boy screams.

This boy runs up to the stage and stand there proudly, as if signing up to die is something to be proud of. He has short wavy black hair and dark brown hair along with a fair skin on his body. His face is a bit boxy but the rest of him is rather average. He is dressed simply in a black shirt along with brown trousers. He also wears grey shoes.

"I am Verne Barrett!" he declares beaming at the young women in the crowd.

Indigo watches on in horror as a young woman that resembles Verne breaks down and falls to the floor sobbing and wailing as she watches her son stand on the stage ready to become a murderer. _This must be his mother._

"Thank you District Six! Until we meet again," Indigo says with a fake smile plastered upon his face, leading his tributes off the stage and into the Justice Building of this District.

* * *

The floor is made of a shining marble, one that reflects the appearances of Indigo and his tributes. Tele follows them through the door shortly afterwards. He looks to the young tributes, who may or may not survive the games.

"I don't do inspirational speeches… Just try your best!" Tele says, as if his words may lift their spirits.

Cyra simply flicks her hair and walk out of the room with a silent confidence. Verne says goodbye quietly before leaving Indigo alone with Tele. They stand there for a moment, their faces puzzled.

"Since when did District Six have volunteers?" Tele asks perplexed.

Indigo just shrugs in response.

 _Kids these days._

* * *

 _Saffra Yule, District Seven_

Saffra breaks the rules, Saffra breaks the rules many, many times in many ways. The rules enforced by Panem mean nothing to her, she doesn't want to be constricted by the rules that mean nothing to her.

She will do anything she wants to, if she wishes to have a romantic entanglement with a mentor, she will. If she wants to openly protest against the games she will. And if she felt like bad mouthing the President, she will.

It is fair to say Saffra gets in trouble a lot with the Capitol but luckily she is a great talker and can lie her way out of any situation and if this doesn't work, she reminds them that she, Saffra Yule is dating Apollo Cornia, Head Gamemaker. This gave her a lot of power in politics and ways of the games. This also meant she could protect a tribute if she cared for them. She had her _ways_ of persuading Apollo and she knew he would _always_ give in to her demands.

People often criticize Saffra, claiming that she doesn't love Apollo and only dates him for the advantages his wealth and power provide him with. But that is not true, she does love Apollo and of course the money he has makes him more attractive but she would still love him if he was a poor man from District Twelve.

So she wakes at the crack of dawn, to find Apollo lying next to her, his face nuzzled into the depths of the pillow and his arm draped around her waist lightly. He had tanned skin, deep blue eyes that twinkled in the dim light of the morning sun. He had short soft sandy brown hair styled so some of it was scrapped to the side. Saffra sighed slightly looking at the beautiful man before her. They had been dating for three years now, it is only a _matter of time before he asks me to marry him_ she thinks to herself.

She curls up beside him, nuzzling her head into the nook between his neck and head. And for a while they just lay there, like that, in perfect silence.

A few moments later she pulls herself from the bed and she hears the very annoyed moaning escaping from the lips of Apollo but she smirks in response. She pins back her medium length black hair, with a strange invention called chop sticks. Apparently chop sticks are part of her Asian ancestry.

Not that anyone in Panem knows what Asia is.

She throws on a pleated yellow dress, with lace around the bodice. She slips a pair of black ballet pumps on and a large chunky golden chain around her neck as well. She is a simple but elegant dresser.

* * *

She walks out of her home, only to have her name called from above, she looks up to the large, canopy of leaves from the willow tree. He jumps down from the willowy and thin branches to meet with her. This is Shout Vics, named very accurately so as this young boy doesn't seem to have an inside voice. His skin is a pale shade and his eyes a pale blue hue. His jawline is well defined and his cheeks sculpted by his high cheekbones.

"Hey Saffra, you excited for this year's games then?" he asks cheerily.

"Of all hells I have dreamt of, there is none worse than that of the hunger games," she snaps back.

"So that's a no then," he smirks in response.

Saffra goes to storm off but before she can, Shout has already looped his arm through hers and he walks at her almost lightening pace. It is fair to say she would much rather be snuggling up with her boyfriend then sending young kids to their deaths.

After the usual speech from Bonus Willows and the talk about the importance of the games, Saffra begins to pick which young girl is destined to die.

"Emmy Stevens!"

From the crowd emerges a tall girl with deep green eyes, eye which flicker with fear of the games and all that follow with the child murdering games. Her short brown hair is jelled out of her face and as she moves Saffra notices the way her long black dress shimmers and sparkles. When she reaches the stage, she says nothing and instead she quivers uncontrollably on the spot, Saffra wants to reach out and hug her but she doesn't want to become too attached. Instead she just picks out the male name.

"Jackson Strome!"

Jackson is relatively normal looking, with shaggy blonde hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes. His hair is somewhat long, reaching a bit past his eyes, and a bit on the curly side. Saffra noticed how he teared up as he walked to the stage. Yet, he stood there stoically, lower lip quivering, and his arms crossed, hair falling into his face. Of course she had to have scared tributes, tributes she would want to hug and love but tributes that would die all the same.

"Goodbye and good luck district seven!"

She leads the young people back to the Justice Building, with Shout hot on her heels. She wants to fill them with hope, pride and confidence but instead she shoos them on to say their final goodbyes to their loved ones.

 _If only I could save both of them_

* * *

 **So despite popular opinion I am not in fact dead, I was just busy with life and other such things concerning life.**

 **HAPPY NEW YEAR! Wow, how can it be 2016 already? Where has the time gone? But I hope you had a good celebration and best wishes for the upcoming year ahead.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and soon the reapings will be over so we can start the train journeys and also the training sessions which I am excited to write.**

 **Thank you to all who have followed this story religiously, it means a lot! If you have an OC in this story, especially this chapter, you should be reviewing so I know I wrote their character right. If you don't review I can kill off your OC... Just kidding... Or am I?**

 **Question time!**

 **Who was your favourite escort?**

 **Who was your least favourite?**

 **Favourite mentor?**

 **Least favourite?**

 **Tribute favourite?**

 **Least favourite tribute?**

 **Did you enjoy the chapter?**

 **Until next time Capitolites!**

 **~I've been Jotunheim Storm~**

 **Thanks xoxo**


	5. Bye Everyone

Hi guys.

You've probably noticed I haven't been active and there are a couple reasons why.

My nana passed away and I'm still struggling with grief.

Exams.

Uni applications.

I probably won't return to be honest.

I'm really sorry about this, I just don't have motivation anymore.

PM me if we were close friends and I'll tell you where I'm more active.

Thanks for reading my stories guys.

For the last time

I've been Jotunheim Storm

Thanks xoxo


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